The Spoils of Sin (14 page)

In the bed of the wagon, on sacks and other stuff, were three youngsters. The smallest was on the lap of a girl, while a boy leaned against her, as if half asleep. Fanny reminded herself of their names – Ellie and Jimmy – and how pathetic they had seemed when their mother died, right at the end of the migration. She had been buried in a little cemetery outside Oregon City, where the wagon train had found itself after two thousand miles of travelling. Since then, Fanny had seen the Fields children a few times, after Charity's own baby had been born, and the sisters had all been eager visitors, though Fanny less so than the other two.

Charity climbed down slowly, and stood with a hand pressed into the small of her back, arching in a proud display of a well advanced pregnancy. Her husband lifted down the children, and the five Fieldses arranged themselves in an instinctive family group, presenting as a firmly bonded unit, ready for whatever the world might throw at them.

Fanny shuddered as a wave of loneliness washed through her without warning. Did she not have her own family close by, without needing Charity's company – two sisters, two parents and a brother were surely enough? Not to mention the most loyal and devoted friend any girl could wish for. She pushed away the knowledge that in reality all she had was Carola, and opened her arms to Charity.

‘What's this I see?' she laughed. ‘Another little Fields on the way! And look at Walter – what a change! He's almost grown up already!'

Sheer nonsense, of course. The infant could barely walk, and was clinging desperately to his sister's hand. A sister who was of no blood connection to himself, Fanny reflected, noting the almost ludicrous contrast in their appearance. Walter had inherited a great deal of his Indian grandmother's looks, while Ellie was pink and pale, with wispy hay-coloured curls. Her father had died, leaving her mother to remarry. Then the mother too had died, so that Moses Fields had little choice but to raise her and Jimmy, despite having no blood ties to them. Such remade families were common in any case, and nobody made much comment. Indeed, she and Charity had different mothers – a fact neither seemed to regard as of much importance.

Moses stood with his shoulder nudging against that of his wife, in a careless intimacy that spoke of an affection that nobody had predicted during the months of the migration. Charity turned to him and their eyes met, so that a current of connection was created that excluded all else.
Good God
, thought Fanny.
They look like lovers, even after two years of marriage.
Envy was now added to the wave of loneliness, and she turned away, wishing she and Carola could simply climb into their trap and drive back to Chemeketa.

Mrs Collins ushered everyone into the house, and Charity went upstairs to see her grandmother, with no prompting. Fanny found herself with Walter on her lap, much to her surprise. He was damp around his lower parts and pushed sticky fingers into her mouth – a most unpleasant sensation. All the time he smiled and chuckled for no discernible reason. Was the child perhaps retarded, she wondered. Why else would he find her so amusing?

‘He's a little wonder,' said Fanny's mother dotingly. ‘I remember Nam at that age, always climbing onto any lap she could find.'

Fanny had been eight when her youngest sister was born, and remembered little of such antics. She suspected she had avoided being around the infant as much as possible. Her position as the middle one of five children had given her a variety of options for company and activity, when they lived back east in the easygoing city of Providence.

Patrick stood beaming around at his assembled offspring, nodding with indiscriminate benignity at them all in turn. The house was full to bursting when they all began to make preparations for the noontime meal, discarding outer garments and washing hands. Charity removed her little son and took him out of sight for a change of cloth. The incontinence of small children was something Fanny had not consciously considered until now. She allowed her thoughts to dwell on this nuisance, in an effort to quell the pangs of envy she felt towards her sister. Charity had never shown any imagination or ambition; never understood anything beyond the end of her own nose. She would remain obscure and insignificant in her rocky little corner of Oregon, turning out unremarkable infants year after year. They would never have money, never enjoy the sort of talk that was heard in a growing city. To experience envy of such a life was utter folly, Fanny persuaded herself, and her chin lifted accordingly.

Lizzie and her mother attended to the food, with Nam's assistance. They ate a handsome brisket with mounds of vegetables. Bottled fruit followed, adorned with cream from the few cows that were Lizzie's special area of responsibility. Fanny caught Carola's eye and was in no doubt that she too was thinking of the fruit and cream they had eaten the previous evening.

All around the table there were contented smiles. Except for Reuben, Fanny noticed after some time. Her brother's face was tight, and his eyes downcast. He was sitting across the table from her and she leaned over to address him. ‘Are you in pain?' she asked.

He grimaced in reply. ‘As always,' he said, rubbing the misshapen shoulder that had been dislocated more than two years earlier. A lack of competent medical attention had ensured that it could not be returned to its rightful place in time, and the muscles or ligaments had rearranged themselves as best they could, leaving the arm almost useless.

He was twenty-one years old, and might rightfully be expecting to seek out a wife for himself before very much longer. But being crippled, this was unlikely to occur. Fanny remembered the joy of his return to them, having never seen any of the fighting against the Mexicans for which he had been dragooned. Only slowly did the implications of the damage become inescapable. Of limited use on the land, he nonetheless left the house each morning with tasks to perform. He became adept at swinging an axe with one hand, and clearing away scrub. He could drive a team of oxen, although the furrows they ploughed were never straight. His father fashioned a leather harness for the crooked arm, holding it closer to Reuben's body and allowing for some use of hand and wrist as a result, but it was never altogether satisfactory. The young man was slow and often frustrated. Looking at him now, with her special knowledge, Fanny found herself thinking that he was just the sort of man to come calling at her boudoir.

The meal was noisy and prolonged. A full dozen squashed in, elbow to elbow, did not make for a refined experience. Grandma had been carried downstairs to join the throng, and Fanny felt a pang of alarm at the possibility that she might reveal what she knew of her grand-daughter's activities in Chemeketa. Ellie and Jimmy had been settled with their food on a bench under the window. Walter would not sit unsupported, so was passed from one lap to another, crowing loudly at each new caretaker. Lizzie maintained a determination to extract detailed information from Carola as to the precise nature of her wares in the fictitious store. Questions flowed from her and any unsatisfactory replies were challenged. At sixteen, Lizzie was thinner and gawkier than even Charity had been, much to Fanny's dismay. Lizzie had been her closest sibling for a while, her lameness a source of regret, which Fanny had treated with unwavering solicitude. Much of Fanny's self-regard arose from the way she had always behaved with this sister, two years her junior. Others might have found Lizzie irritating or slow, obsessive about her animals or unduly persistent in her questioning, but Fanny had never felt the same. Now, however, she was desperate to silence the girl, to divert conversation into another channel – but every attempt failed dismally.

‘Are there fashion magazines to be had in your town? Are there many ladies living there? How many bonnets would you sell in a week? What are the most popular style of boots at the moment?'

‘Lizzie Collins, give the girl a rest!' thundered Patrick at last. ‘Whatever makes you so interested in such matters all of a sudden, anyhow? You stand little prospect of leaving these acres for a good long while yet, and when you do, 'twill be dressed in plain homespun, so it will. Would a hoyden such as you seek to grace the likes of Miss Carola's establishment, now? Stop you foolishness girl, for the Lord's good sake.'

Carola chanced a quick smile at Fanny, having deliberately avoided her eye from Lizzie's first enquiries.
Miss Carola's establishment
was too good to ignore.

Fanny smiled back, and rolled her eyes, steadfastly avoiding her grandmother's amused gaze.

Lizzie subsided mutinously, but seemed uninjured by the hard words. Patrick Collins was often hasty in his criticisms, but not one of his daughters ever doubted his abiding devotion to them. He would laugh at himself too often for them to take offence at anything he said. The relief from Lizzie's attentions made Carola generous. ‘I shall send you a frock this summer,' she promised. ‘For you to wear when you go visiting, and not to be taken anywhere near those cows.'

Everyone laughed indulgently when Lizzie responded with a thanks. ‘But there's never any prospect of visiting anybody,' she added sadly. ‘The next neighbours are five miles distant.'

‘Five miles is nothing!' said Charity. ‘We came five times that far this morning. And besides, there's a new house being built just the other side of the rise. Substantial, from the look of it.'

‘Indeed there is,' said Patrick. ‘I caught a glimpse of it a week since.'

‘And never said a word,' his wife chastised him. ‘You'd think a new neighbour was nothing worth mentioning. Who are they, do you know?''

‘Not a notion. The Territory is filling up so fast we shall be crowded with neighbours in another year or so.'

‘The talk is all of men rushing to California to dig for gold,' said Carola, who had mostly remained silent in the face of so many Collinses and Fields. ‘In Chemeketa, the streets are very much quieter than they once were.'

‘Just a silly spell of madness,' Patrick dismissed airily. ‘They all believe they can have something for nothing. Give them a month and they'll be home again, chastened by their own folly.'

Charity spoke up then. ‘And how will the homesteads manage if all the men disappear? After coming so far, it would make no sense to leave again, just as they've established themselves.'

‘The lure of gold is evidently very strong,' said Carola mildly. Fanny had observed her friend's interest in her older sister, with a pang of disquiet. ‘But I suppose you could be right about the homesteaders. They would find it troublesome to get away. I was thinking rather of the many single men who have come west and have yet to create families for themselves. But it may very well be that Mr Collins is correct, and there is nothing very much to it, after all.'

The three men wandered outdoors while the women cleared up after the meal. Little Walter fell asleep on a couch. Jimmy and Ellie argued over one of the dogs that hoped for a game with them. Upstairs, Grandma was all but forgotten by them all.

The scullery proving impossibly crowded with Mrs Collins, Carola and Lizzie all intent on restoring order and cleanliness, Charity and Fanny suddenly realised they were alone. Fanny quelled a wild desire to run, thinking herself mad.

‘It is good to see you again,' said Charity. ‘You have changed most markedly.'

‘As have you.' Fanny stared boldly at the swollen belly. ‘Life rolls along, it seems.'

‘As Henry Bricewood might say.'

‘Henry Bricewood! Have you seen him again?'

Charity shook her head. ‘Nor would I expect to. But I think of him at times, with his books and his deep thoughts. I include him in my prayers.'

‘Prayers?' Fanny frowned. Although a Catholic family, the Collins carried their religion lightly, and nightly prayers had been long abandoned. ‘What does your husband make of that?'

‘I spoke metaphorically,' snapped her sister. ‘I send him good wishes, if you would rather word it that way. I hope he is well and contented. Moses would agree. We were both impressed by Henry, in our own ways.'

Fanny remembered a man of abnormally small stature, who would regard her and Abel with a gravely assessing air. He would give a small understanding smile that Fanny had never found comfortable.

‘So – you have taken up with the Beaumont girl, just as you said you would. Have your other ambitions come to fruition, I wonder?'

‘Indeed, Carola and I have remained together. We find ourselves in the utmost harmony, for which I am most thankful.'

‘Unlike you and I, then.'

‘We were not always in disagreement,' said Fanny, almost pleadingly. Apart from Charity, everybody in Fanny's life had accepted her for who she was, manifesting no anxieties as to her future or her sinful soul. But Charity had been profoundly horrified to discover her sister's sensual nature and the use she made of it. The older girl had stumbled across Fanny and Abel
in flagrante
, and never quite got over it.

‘We had the good sense to keep out of each other's way.'

‘And yet I have the strongest sense that you would still like to draw comparisons, and award marks to the one with the better life. You cannot simply let me be, can you?'

Charity's eyebrows rose, and Fanny was forced to acknowledge that there was a much greater maturity in her sister than there had been two years before. At that time, Fanny had clearly been the one with all the confidence, ambition and imagination. She had seen life as a great sponge to be wrung dry of all the sweet juices it had to offer. If the sponge turned out to be soaked with more vinegar than syrup, then that in itself was a lesson learned. Charity had never raised her eyes to the horizon, let alone the wide blue sky above. She trudged ahead, full of worry and confusion and took the first man she considered tolerable. The fact that she and Moses now showed every sign of a deep abiding contentment was somehow unjust in Fanny's eyes.